I'm a former Olympian. I've got an image of the Olympic torch tattooed on my wrist. I'm gay. And if I were eligible to compete in the upcoming Olympics in Sochi, Russia, I'd go with pride to represent the United States of America.

In recent weeks I've been inundated by questions from people asking what we should do in the face of Russia's new anti-gay laws and threats of arrest for anyone attending the Olympics who is identifiably gay and/or "promoting gay propaganda" (whatever that's supposed to mean). Should we go or should we boycott? I don't think there's a one-size-fits-all answer.

Representing my country on the U.S. soccer team at the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing was one of the best experiences of my life. As I waited with the hundreds of other young American athletes in the stadium's entry tunnel during the opening ceremonies, we all started chanting "USA! USA! USA!" And by the time we entered the stadium to join the thousands of elite athletes already gathered there from around the world, the tens of thousands of spectators in the stands were chanting along with us. I knew that somewhere out there beyond the camera flashes and TV lights were my mom and my aunt who were cheering, too. It was a moment of extraordinary pride—in being an Olympian, an American, and a soccer player; I still get chills when I think about it. And it was a rare moment when I wasn't thinking that my life as a soccer player would be over if anyone found out that I was gay. For all I knew, I was the only gay athlete at the Olympics. Back then, it was a secret I couldn't imagine sharing with anyone.

Now five years later, I couldn't imagine supporting a boycott of the Sochi Olympics that would deny any fellow athletes the opportunity to do what I did then: to compete against the world's best, to fulfill the dream of a lifetime, to set an example for the world, to make our friends, families, and country proud of our accomplishments. I also couldn't imagine telling an athlete not to boycott if that's what he or she thinks is best.

But here's what I would do if I could. I'd go. I'd make no secret of the fact I'm gay and I'd take every opportunity to let people know the truth about my life, which I've done since I came out this past February. And if I were a straight athlete, I'd go and take every opportunity to let people know that I support the rights of all people to live free from the threat of discrimination. After all, isn't freedom an Olympic ideal?

And here's what I hope the International Olympic Committee will do: Relax the rules forbidding Olympic athletes from wearing a symbol that represents a political statement. On the contrary, encourage athletes attending the Sochi Olympics to wear the rainbow flag, a symbol of gay pride, as a symbol of their support for LGBT athletes everywhere and to show solidarity for gay Russians who are now living under the threat of arrest by a repressive regime.

There's historical precedent here. In 1936, when Berlin hosted the Summer Olympics, Hitler saw it as a chance to promote his views of racial purity to the world, and the official Nazi paper argued that Jews and Blacks should not be allowed to compete. This sparked a heated international debate involving many countries—including the United States--about whether or not to boycott the Olympics. And perhaps the most enduring image of those Olympics was the triumph of African-American sprinter Jesse Owens. Had the U.S. boycotted and Jesse Owens missed the event, an important historical teaching moment would have been lost.

Flash forward to today. A couple of nights ago I was out at dinner after a game in Miami with some of my teammates from the Los Angeles Galaxy. While the guys all know I'm gay and know some of my story, they'd never had the chance to ask me questions about my life. Somehow we got into a conversation about what it was like for me to go out to a gay bar and go on a date with a guy, all of which I did for the first time just last year at the age of 25.

Before I came out, in my wildest dreams I could never have imagined having that conversation because I thought I would never be accepted by my straight teammates. But I was wrong. The guys at dinner were simply curious and I did my best to answer their questions. It was such a straightforward and easy conversation. They asked questions. I talked. They listened. At the end of the evening, one of my teammates thanked me and said, "If you don't talk and listen, you can't learn." What had been one of my greatest fears — telling the truth about my life — turned out to be a teachable moment that brought us all closer together.

Let's hope that President Vladimir Putin and the Russian government have provided all of us with an international teachable moment. If we take the time to think about how to make that happen and don't act impulsively by jumping on the boycott bandwagon, perhaps the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia can be remembered instead for moving the ball forward in the fight for equal rights for all people everywhere. That's my Olympic dream.

Robbie Rogers plays Major League Soccer for the Los Angeles Galaxy. He is the only openly gay male athlete currently playing in one of the five major professional sports in the United States.